I Write Sins, Not Tragedies
by marianna
Summary: PostFinale Fic. Logan needs a new apartment, because the Neptune Grand holds too many awful memories. He enlists Veronica's help, but instead of the romantic outing she'd planned it to be, an unexpected vistor shakes things up. Much better than I'm making


When Logan asks her to go apartment hunting, she isn't surprised. While it might have served as home to him for the past months, she can't imagine he'd be able to stay in a place so packed with memories and demons at every corner. She smiles as she prints out the locations for the best in the area. The most private buildings, the closest to the beach, the closest to _her_ without losing cool points…she sees herself staying over there during the times when her father is out of town, imagines the day when she leaves a tooth brush and then half a wardrobe. Though she laughs as she shakes herself from her reverie, from then on, she makes sure each apartment isn't animal controlled.

&&

Her dreams are shattered then, on a Saturday morning, when, dressed and ready for a day finding his dream apartment, she finds Dick Casablancas sitting in the passenger seat of Logan's Xterra.

"Thanks for helping us find a new super cool new pad, Ronnie." He's as obnoxious as ever, and even though it's only 10 in the morning, she can smell the alcohol on his breath from a mile off. Logan meets her eyes in the rearview, hiding nothing, hopeful that she isn't mad, and when she shrugs her consent, waving her hand in concession, the final step in their non verbal communication, he smiles, and shrugs his shoulders back, mouthing 'I love you' as discreetly as he can.

&&

Dick throws up in the first apartment.

"He had clams." Logan murmurs in her ear as he passes her, squeezing her shoulder as he heads for the bathroom where Dick's head is probably perched precariously atop the porcelain god.

"Clams? I'm betting the _beer_ didn't help too much." She responds, simultaneously eliciting a moan both from Dick and the real estate rep she'd thought ahead to call.

"Shall I give you a moment?" The woman asks, smoothing her fingers over her skirt, and Veronica can't help but marveling at her primness. She hopes she never turns out that way.

"Could you? My…" _Friend? Boyfriend's lackey? Dead rapists' older brother?_ "My friend isn't feeling the greatest." Following the sound of Dick's retches she finally finds the bathroom, hidden behind two closets and a hallway. Soaking his own shirt in the process, Logan is holding Dick's as he continues to exhale violently. "Gee, Dick, I didn't know you were sick." He waves his hand at her, not bothering to lift his head, moaning again as he rubs his stomach. "What would posses you to eat clams if you're obviously allergic?" He moans again at the 'c' word, slowly sitting up and leaning against the coolness of the toilet. Behind him, Logan silently maneuvers the lid closed and flushes all evidence of his illness away. Dick cringes.

"Esmeralda made fresh fish burritos for breakfast." Veronica nods, her fingers tapping rapidly on her arm.

"Why did you eat them if you knew they had clams in them?" She's like an overbearing mother and she knows it, but she's disappointed that Logan isn't apartment hunting for himself, and Dick isn't making it very easy to feel bad for him.

"Beav-" He pauses for a second, not bothering to look at her, even though he knows her eyes are wide. In the handful of times she's seen him since his brother's death, he hasn't spoken his name once. "Beav always used to eat all of the sauce. He never let me have any-ever, guess he knew I'd try to eat it anyway, if I knew there were clams in there. Esmeralda probably couldn't remember, or didn't even know..." He trails off looking up at her, wiping at his lips with the side of his hand, and she has to turn away, because she still can't equate Cassidy, the insane killer on the roof of the Neptune Grand with the innocent boy they'd once known. Sighing, she pulls a bottle of water from her purse, bending slightly to give it to him.

"Drink this. We've got to go in a minute. The next one is all the way across town." Both boys nod for a moment, looking around the dingy bathroom and the flickering light in the hallway. "I'm guessing this one's a no." She mutters as she backs out, pulling out her pad and paper as she goes, crossing the name from her list.

"Dude, I thought you said she was _good_ at this." She hears Dick say as she closes the door and she can't help but laughing.

&&

"Now this I could get used to." Dick flops on the black leather couch, his eyes closing as his body settles in comfort. Logan laughs as he sits next to him, his eyes on Veronica.

"What do you think, Sw-?"

"You call her sweetie one more time man, and I swear I'm gonna fucking kick your ass." Rolling her eyes, she settles on the couch next to Logan, flicking through the information packet she'd printed from the Internet.

"It comes furnished, with DSL as well as HBO, Showtime and Cinemax. There are…" She pauses as she stands, patting Logan's shoulder absently along the way, and he smiles as her fingers flit over him. "Three bedrooms," She continues, pointing to various doorways off of the main living area. "Two bathrooms and a half bath," She spins in a slow circle as she locates each one ticking them off of her fingers as well as on the diagram before her. "And a picture kitchen-whatever that means," She mutters, pushing through a swinging door behind the couch, continuing to talk. "Equipped with oven, fridge and amenities." Logan is impressed. She can see it in his eyes as she pushes back out of the kitchen. She's impressed too.

"How much a month, Ronnie?" She cringes at the nickname her persists on calling her, but chooses to ignore it, instead looking down her list and frowning as she does so.

"$2500." She cringes again as she grinds out the word, peaking out the corner of her eye to see their responses. Logan's face is blank and Dick is shrugging his shoulders.

"Not bad," He mutters, rubbing his stomach, and she gasps at him, her mouth hanging open.

"Not bad? It's freaking highway robbery what they're asking you to pay! It's not even the greatest area, and the wrong side of the beach, plus, the patio can barely fit a table and a chair."

"There's a wrong side of the beach? It's still sand and water, right?"

"Veronica,"

"You would know, wouldn't you? You're the one with the _social cred_ to keep up." Her shoulders are shaking violently with an anger she isn't quite sure she feels. It's frightening how so very thoroughly Dick can rile her.

"Veronica," Logan is standing beside her now, his hand rubbing small circles on her back. It's his own special way of calming her. She takes a breath, closing her eyes and counting back from ten then looks into his eyes.

"Logan," She hisses, pulling on his arm and dragging him a few feet back from Dick and his straining ears. "I don't understand why Dick needs a place to live anyway. I've seen the Casablancas house. It's huge. Why would he want to live in a crummy apartment?"

"Veronica, this apartment is not crummy."

"You know what I mean, Logan. He has all that room, all to himself…" She trails off as she realizes what she's saying, her lips clamping into a thin line. "Oh. Still," She reasons, twirling a stray piece of her hair around her finger and glancing down at the packet in her hands. "$2500 a month is a lot of money. It's about…" Running the numbers through her head, her lips moving as she calculates the number. "It's about $28,000 a year. You'd be paying more-"

"30."

"What?" She turns at the sound of Dick's voice. He's slouched further, feet propped against the glass coffee table, his eyes riveted to bikini-clad women wrestling each other in mud. She tries not to throw up. If they do end up moving here, they'd never get their damage deposit back.

"It would be $30,000 a year. Not 28." His eyes don't even move to look at her, which she thinks is probably a good sign, because she's gaping at him again.

"What, did you bring a pocket calculator with you do trip me up?" She forces herself to laugh at the end, but she's shaken up. He only shrugs.

"Beav, was the English wiz, I was better at math."

"Dick, I've been taking math classes with you since the 7th grade. I never once saw you do well on a test. Or hand in your homework, or do anything, really."

"Just because you didn't see it, Ronnie…" He lets his voice trail off again, widening his eyes innocently. "Well, bro, I like this place, but half that $30,000 is yours." He pats Logan's shoulder, turning back to face Veronica, ambling towards the doorway she'd pointed to as one of the bathrooms. "Now, Mars, let's see if you can do that math in your head. 30, divided by 2 would be-" He laughs as she flips him off, anger clouding her pretty features.

"So what do you think, V?" She's sitting on the couch, her face pressed on the leather, her eyes closed against the light streaming in from the window.

"I think…" She opens her eyes to tell him she thinks he shouldn't be moving in with Dick, that it could only lead to pain and destruction-at least, _her_ pain, and the _apartment's_ destruction. "I think that if you like it, it's great." He smiles down at her, his eyes wide and trusting, and she leans up to kiss him, needing his touch like Loganless people need air. There lips are almost touching when the bathroom door slams open, banging hard into the wall behind it.

"We can't move in here, dude."

"What? Why? I thought you loved it." Logan moves away from her swiftly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as consolation. She wants to flick his arm off, but she doesn't see what good it could possibly do. She's mad at Dick, not Logan.

"The bathroom smells like shit."


End file.
